"Your power? Why do you wish him in your power? Do you want to do him harm?"
"Harm!" Then Romanoff laughed. "And if I do, what then?"
"That I refuse to serve you. Carry out your threats; tell the British authorities who I am. Tell the Germans what I did at Warsaw. I do not care. I defy you. Unless you promise me that you will not do Faversham harm, I will do nothing."
"Why are you interested as to whether I will do Faversham harm?"
"I am—that's all."
The Count was silent for a few seconds. Evidently his mind was working rapidly. "Look at me!" he cried suddenly, and, as if by some power she could not resist, she raised her eyes to his.
The Count laughed like one amused.
"You have fallen in love with him, eh?"
The girl was silent, but a flush mounted her cheeks.
"This is interesting," he sneered. "I did not think that Olga Petrovic, who has regarded men as so many dogs of the fetch-and-carry order, and who has scorned the thought of love, should have fallen a victim to the malady. And to a thick-headed Englishman, too! Surely it is very sudden."